


Reflections

by orphan_account



Series: And the Gunslinger Followed [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Deadlock McCree, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:52:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9239765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It didn’t take long for Jesse McCree’s life to fall apart. Later in his life, usually on the nights spent in some god-forsaken bar with only a glass of whiskey for company, he’d reflect about each and every one of his mistakes and decide that he’d been doomed from the start.





	

It didn’t take long for Jesse McCree’s life to fall apart. Later in his life, usually on the nights spent in some god-forsaken bar with only a glass of whiskey for company, he’d reflect about each and every one of his mistakes and decide that he’d been doomed from the start.

\---

Jesse didn’t remember much of his father. His strongest memories of the man included yelling in the distance and doors banging. Once, the door was shut for the last time, hard enough to shake a picture off the wall. Something broke inside of his mother too, that day. Jesse remembered the streaks of mascara on her cheeks, and spending a lot of time in front of a tv channel playing old movies on loop, at any hour of the day.

His mother went out more often, returning home later every night, until she no longer came back at all. A group of social workers entered the cramped one-room apartment instead. After a few words and even less time, he was carried away by a jaded, uniformed woman, watching the only home he’d ever known disappear over her shoulder.

\---

Jesse switched foster families more frequently than his own clothes. Nobody could stand his hell-raising rebellion for long.

He hated the orphanage and everyone in it with a burning passion. School, if possible, was even worse.

When a lanky teenaged girl he’d met in detention asked him to hang out, he didn’t think twice about accepting her cigarettes and distracting employees while she shoplifted. Jessica laughed at his jokes, always shared the loot, complained about her family and made him feel like he wasn’t alone. When she dropped out of high school he didn’t think twice before following her, either.

They became inseparable. Jesse and Jessica, partners in crime: it was destiny, she said. He was with her when she started using, then dealing drugs to indulge her habit.

On his fifteenth birthday she gave him a gun, stolen from her father’s display. It was a beautiful thing, all gleaming metal and sheer power with an engraved handle: a six-shooter worthy of the legendary outlaws from his favorite Western movies. He didn’t have the heart to sell it - plus, it could be more useful than the cash if he put it to good use.

After some small, partially successful robberies - including a fast-paced escape through a series of back alleys after a yelling shopkeeper had pointed his shotgun at them - Jessica introduced Jesse to her seller. Standing on a street corner and handing out the merchandise was much easier money.

He was returning to his boss with Jessica after a long day’s work like any other, bags gone and replaced with stacks of cash, when two older teenagers approached them. Their threats were cut short with two shots fired into the night, straight through their foreheads. Jesse’s eye burned hotter than the gun in his hand for a week afterwards.

\---

His endeavour earned him some respect and a place to sleep when their seller introduced Jesse and Jessica to the rest of his gang. After a pat on the back and an endless round of beers, he was officially a member of the Deadlock Rebels. For the first time, he felt like he was worth a damn - more than just a stray the gang had picked up.

Jessica didn’t quite agree. She started looking for excuses to refuse jobs, got more jittery than ever, spoke to him in hushed and shaky tones so different from her once confident words. Deadlock meant business, she said. She never signed up for this. She never wanted to actually kill anyone, _for real_.

She wanted out. She wanted to go home.

She never made it. The moment she stuffed her meager possessions in a bag, they knew. Their leader - a giant of a man with a barrel chest, prosthetic legs and a shaved head going by the nickname Cobra - executed Jessica without trial, condemning her brutally and ruthlessly.

_You’re either with us, or against us._

The whole gang gathered to spit insults and laugh and ogle as they passed her between them. Jesse tried to stop them, only to receive the same treatment. When it finally arrived, death was a mercy he wished he could have shared with his best friend.

He had never cried so hard in his life.

\---

He fought back. It took a long time for him to realize how going against the others’ desires made life unnecessarily difficult. Eventually, he swallowed his pride, put on a mask, and let them do what they wanted. Jesse’s consciousness got used to running off to a dark corner of his mind, seeking refuge somewhere far away.

He trained. Every free moment he had was spent practicing with his gun, refining his skill, becoming one of the gang’s sharpest shooters and a valuable asset. He was becoming more than just a toy to be used and broken without consequences.

The gunslinger’s aggressiveness became more subtle and threatening. Any room went quiet when he brought his hand closer to the holster on his hip during an argument.

Jesse got used to sleeping with his gun in hand, tossing and turning out of vivid nightmares only to expect something worse in the waking world. He lived in constant fear of retaliation from the enemies he’d made, until he learned that staying in the leader’s favor granted him protection from the others. A necessary evil to avoid dozens more.

\---

A year had passed since Jessica’s death.

Jesse sat up on the creaking mattress, heavily curved under the weight of Cobra’s snoring body at his side, and reached for his gun under the pillow. He had no trouble finding its usual spot despite the darkness. His fingers ran along the barrel, taking comfort in the repetitive gesture.

There was no room for any more notches on his pistol, but the gunslinger still kept count of the men he killed and reminded himself of that number every night. Keeping track felt important, somehow, as if he would otherwise lose a part of himself.

He turned the weapon in his hands, looking at the cause of so much pain and destruction. It shone quite innocently in the sliver of moonlight that crept in from the window. For a moment, the notches disappeared; he no longer heard the gang leader beside him, all noises swallowed by a strong gust of wind; he was younger, opening a sloppily wrapped box with glee and testing the gun’s weight for the first time, holding it as reverently as a sacred relic.

_‘I know you can make good use of this, Jesse!’_

The memory of her voice faded, mingling with the whispering breeze.

He buried his face in his palms, swallowing the sobs already threatening to emerge. Cobra would not appreciate being woken up by the noise, and his bruises were just starting to heal.

47.

47 men, women and children whose existence he’d wiped off the face of the earth.

47 lives cut short because of him, because of the gun in his lap.

Jesse let the sudden urge of throwing it away and running off into the night pass - he knew better by now, painfully aware of the fact that he would never make it on his own, and how thoroughly Deadlock would look for him. Perhaps, if he and Jessica had left together, when they were still little more than foot soldiers…maybe if he'd listened to her early on, they would've had a chance.

He took in the boss’ form, still fast asleep, and once again considered the consequences of putting a bullet through Cobra’s skull. Most likely, Jesse wouldn’t last a week after that - his men were too loyal for such an act to go unpunished.

He tucked the gun away and lied back down, vowing to repay his debt some other day.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of work I should be doing but goddamn, I had to get this out of my head. I've been thinking about this backstory for way too long.  
> Chapter 2 is gonna be the big one where McCree meets Reyes: I wanna do it right, so it might take some time - sorry about that.


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